


In Which Helvetica Is Surrounded By Amateurs

by renwhit



Series: Hellfire [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Interrogation, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 19:46:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7003873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renwhit/pseuds/renwhit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Anonymous asked:</i><br/>Interrogation. Would you consider a drabble on the aforementioned topic? For characters, perhaps Helvetica or Hellfire? Situation is whatever's convenient. Thanks!</p><p>In which Helvetica insults people even while captive, Gerson attempts a rescue party, and three people attempt to get information out of Helvetica. This does not go well for any of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Helvetica Is Surrounded By Amateurs

**Author's Note:**

> ya gotta read hellfire my guy otherwise this isn't gonna make a goddamn lick of sense  
> heed the warnings my friends

It wasn't exactly unusual. Tacticians needed good, solid information to make plans, and that couldn't always be gained from snatching letters or spying on meetings. The best information about the enemy came from the mouth of someone on that side. Unfortunately, turncoats weren't in high supply. Monsters tended towards loyalty far more often than not, and finding a traitor among them was as likely as finding diamonds among pig slop. The only way, then, was to force it out of them.

 

It was sheer luck that they had managed to capture a general. She had volunteered to go on a scouting mission herself after a few of her own scouts were too injured to go themselves. A younger turtle monster had gone out with her to watch the human encampment for the day, and the two had split up to skirt the perimeter. It was luck that a couple human soldiers saw her before she saw them. Luck that they had declined to sound an alarm and chose instead to sneak up on her, luck that they had managed to surprise her. Luck that the turtle had been too far away to hear the commotion. 

 

She struggled all the while, biting, spitting, trying to shout around a gag they'd wrestled into her mouth. As soon as they managed to force her into their prison, a hastily made structure of wood and stone, she went still. She allowed herself to be tied into a chair, a wrist bound with rough rope to each back leg of it and an ankle to each one in front. There they left her, alone, with nothing but four walls for company. Isolation would break her. It was only a matter of time.

 

\--

 

Gods, was this the scratchiest rope in the world? Helvetica was certain her wrists were already covered in abrasions, which was annoying. If it frayed enough to be this scratchy, however, perhaps it was fairly weak. She could summon a small, sharp bone and saw her way out.

 

Careful, she told herself. You don't have all the information. Give it time. 

 

She knew what was happening, of course. They'd leave her alone for a few hours, then come back and hope she was willing to talk. She scoffed internally. She could handle boredom.

 

With hours of nothing to do, her mind wandered. She felt the chair she was in as best she could, hunting for weak spots. The connections between the legs and the seat were loose and wobbly, so she may be able to break them off if need be. Because her hands were bound, her investigation only took a few minutes. Back to doing nothing, it seemed.

 

She hoped Gerson wouldn't come after her. He might get hurt, and she wasn't sure what she would do with herself if that happened.

 

Well, at least they probably wouldn't kill her. She was quite valuable with the information she knew and her importance to the monster army. They might send out a ransom if she continually refused to speak, which she hoped wouldn't be paid. It was likely to be some ridiculously exorbitant number playing off of monsterkind's desperation, and she wasn't worth that. 

 

Gods, she was tired. Maybe she had time for a nap before they returned.

 

\--

 

Helvetica was gently woken with a brutal kick to the chest. Ah, there went a rib. So that's how this would be.

 

Her armor was gone, tossed haphazardly in the corner. Her prosthetic leg, a tribute from one of her many battles, laid nearby the pile. Three humans stood before her, doing their best to look intimidating. They didn't succeed. She cocked one brow bone at them, unimpressed. This was really the best they could do?

 

The human on the right stepped forward and hit her hard across the face. Her magic bucked, wanting to defend her, but she quelled it. She needed to find out what was going on.

 

"Isn't this when they start asking what's going on?" the one on the far left muttered to the one in the middle. Must be new, which was good for her. They'd be more likely to slip up. 

 

The middle one ignored them. She crouched to be at Helvetica's level, staring her straight in the eye. 

 

"Here's how this is going to work," the woman said. The man on the right cracked his neck, still clinging to the silent intimidation shtick. "I am going to hurt you. Badly. Enough that your magic will be so focused on keeping you alive that you will not be able to attempt to escape. Then, when your magic has gone dry, I will ask you questions. You will give me the answers I want, or I will continue to hurt you. Are we clear?"

 

Helvetica didn't respond. Why should she? None of this was of any interest, and certainly not worthy of her attention. Fear, old and primal, bit at the back of her throat, but she ignored it. She made sure her face was blank as well. It was a little childish, ignoring them so blatantly, but she was a prisoner and she wasn't going to make it easy for them.

 

The trio left, at the beckoning of the woman. More intimidation tactics, it seemed. Threaten her, then let her imagination and fear run rampant for a while. That would be their plan, anyway. Her rib stung, but she'd had worse. It would only be a taste of what was to come.

 

Helvetica decided she would go back to sleep. She dreamt of Gaster offering her snail soup. Papyrus sat in the bowl. 

 

"Wake up, bone bitch," Papyrus babbled.

 

...What?

 

A blow to the face woke her. Oh. She was here. 

 

Bone bitch? That was really the best he could do? Lord, how long was she going to be trapped with these idiots?

 

The other person (Helvetica elected to call them Rookie in her head) gave her a long-suffering look, as if they were in some sort of camaraderie against his brutish stupidity. She stared stonily back.

 

The first woman (now dubbed Leader) brushed past her fellows to peer at Helvetica. She looked mildly bored, like there were a plethora of other more interesting things she could be doing.

 

 _Well, sorry,_ thought Helvetica drily. _I'll try to be a more captivating prisoner._

 

Leader nodded at the man (who, Helvetica decided, wasn't worthy of a name). He stepped forward and wrapped one spade-like hand around her lowest left rib. With a wrench and a revolting crunching sound, he twisted the bone, sending spiraling fractures down its length. Helvetica made a small choking noise, chest heaving instinctively and further jostling the break. Green magic scurried down to sink into the break, slowly sealing the crack.

 

Next rib. Another grasp, another twist. This one popped entirely away from her sternum. More magic raced to grotesquely twist the rib back into place, but the man had moved on to the next rib before it could finish. One by one, each rib on her left side broke, some worse than others. One of the middle ones shattered into so many pieces that it was all her magic could do to hold it together, never mind begin to heal it.

 

She could already feel her magic struggling to keep up with the sheer amount of injuries. She'd never been much for healing, only learning it for practicalities sake. She’d never had any interest in being a medic - the battlefield was where she belonged. Why bother to learn more than the basics? That choice was coming back to screw her over now.

 

Rookie looked nauseous. Helvetica hoped they threw up all over Leader's shoes. Leader herself looked slightly uncomfortable, unable to keep up her uncaring facade in the face of such brutality. 

 

"Move on to her arm," Leader said quietly. Helvetica spat a glob of waste magic at her feet, where it steamed against the stone. 

 

The man circled around behind her. He didn't move for a few moments, and Helvetica tried to quell her nerves. Anticipation was always worse than the pain itself, so if she could control that, this would be a little easier.

 

With one hand against her right scapula and the other wrapped around her humerus, he wrenched her arm out of the socket. Magic sank desperately into the surrounding bone in a constant stream, unable to fully heal her until the arm was manually relocated.

 

Damn, that hurt. Dislocation was always uncomfortable.

 

Oh, uncomfortable, who was she kidding? It felt like her entire shoulder was on fire, arcing down her arm and racing up her spine like lightning bolts. The worst part was the _wrongness_ , her body knowing that something was not where it was supposed to be, but unable to do a thing about it.

 

Her palms itched, desperate to burst with attacks and get her to safety, but she forced it down. She had no idea what would be waiting for her outside this little room, and she wasn't sure it was worth the risk to find out. She could handle a little pain.

 

"Is she almost out of magic yet?" asked Rookie. Their voice trembled, and Helvetica hated them for their weakness. 

 

Leader shook her head. "You can still see magic healing everything. She won't be able to attack now, because her magic is so diverted, but once we stop giving her things to heal she can use her magic to make weapons. We have to keep it up until we can't see injuries being physically healed."

 

Helvetica easily kept her face neutral, but she almost laughed. They really had no idea how magic worked. They seemed to think it went entirely on instinct, and that she couldn't control what it did. In her head, she envisioned wrapping up a bundle of glowing white, pure magic. It was only a mental projection, but it did the job. She would have magic set aside for whenever she could finally escape, no matter how hurt she was. As soon as she thought the time was right, she'd use enough to get her walking, and the rest to kill whoever stood in her way. 

 

While she had been focusing on making a reserve of magic, the man had left. Leader was chewing on already ragged nails, and Rookie was fidgeting with their brown bob. 

 

It wasn't long until the man returned, carrying a heavy, thick piece of rough metal.

 

A file.

 

Well, fuck.

 

\--

 

 _Don't fall asleep,_ Helvetica reminded herself. _If you fall asleep, your magic will instinctively heal you, and you need those reserves._

 

Damn, how she wanted to. Patches on her upper arms, legs, and pelvis had been filed, roughly scraping away bone and leaving patches of dust on the floor. Two abrasions she especially wanted to heal, one high on the inside of her right femur and one on her back where her ribs met her spine. Each one burned and made the scrapes on her wrists from her bindings seem laughably minor. 

 

She was so tired. 

 

Rather than tilting her head back and closing her eyes, as she so desperately wanted to, she kept rubbing her wrists against the rope. Nothing that severely aggravated her injuries, just enough to continually send shockwaves of pain up her arms to keep her from falling asleep. The dislocation made it that much more painful, and she knew the jostling was probably making it worse, but she had to to stay awake.

 

She couldn't sleep. She couldn't sleep, she couldn't sleep, she could not sleep.

 

Questions swirled around her head. Was Gaster alright? Sans? Papyrus? Had they sent her any letters? Did they know she was here? Had Gerson made it back to camp? 

 

She hoped they were alright. Being here wouldn't be so bad if she knew everyone was safe.

 

Were nights always this long?

 

Her leg started to bounce in irritation, only stopping when it irritated the abrasions already on her ankle. The pain was almost nauseating, but the boredom was somehow worse. She couldn't even sleep to pass the hours. The magic not in her reserve had long since run out, and her shoulder and the filed patches felt like hot pins without magic to soothe them.

 

She squirmed fitfully in her seat, trying to find some position that didn't aggravate her wounds. Doing so was doomed from the start, as the binds kept her from shifting any direction that didn't have her arms wrenched uncomfortably behind her and her legs awkwardly against the legs of the chair. 

 

Helvetica cracked her neck, one way, then the other. She could last the night. This would be easy, simple compared to other things she had been through. These three couldn't do a damn thing.

 

\--

 

Leader walked in the next morning to see Helvetica still awake, exhausted but staring directly at her. The other two came in behind Leader. None of them shut the door behind them. Morons.

 

Helvetica nonchalantly peered around them to see into the encampment. It was a quiet one, with none of the bustle she would have expected. Every once in awhile, a foot soldier would pass, craning their neck to try and catch a glimpse of the monstrous prisoner. 

 

If she escaped at night, there would likely be few guards. Unfortunately, she couldn't see the exit through her narrow viewpoint, so she would have no idea where to go. 

 

It would be worth it, she decided. Better to risk only herself than to have a rescue party come. 

 

She just needed to get through today. One more day, and she could escape.

 

"Uh," said Rookie. "Is the door supposed to be open?"

 

Leader kicked it shut. "Don't worry about it." It was almost insulting to be caught by such amateurs. Helvetica cursed herself for letting her guard down for the umpteenth time. 

 

Crossing to the chair, Leader crouched to be at Helvetica's level. "I'll give you one chance before we begin. Tell me how to breach the capitol."

 

Helvetica stared at her, brow bone raised. What reason did she have to talk?

 

Leader chewed on her lip. She turned to the man. "Go ahead and begin." To Rookie: "Pay attention. You may need to know how to do this in the future."

 

\--

 

The methods used were, frankly, hit or miss. Breaking bones was obvious effective, and the file was a special kind of hell. The hot poker, on the other hand, was laughably ignorable.

 

Glowing red, ashy and bright, moved towards her. She didn't even bother to shift away as it pressed against her arm. The man stared at her. She looked back, face flat. He lifted it. Pressed it against her again. She didn’t flinch. Why would she?

 

Her ribs, however, took quite the beating. Her reserve magic strained, and holding it down was as difficult as holding back a hurricane. It was instinctual, its purpose to keep her alive and healthy as long as possible, but she couldn’t allow it. Even the filed patch the size of her hand on her arm wasn’t worth the wasted magic, not yet. She needed to wait until right before she escaped, so she knew what had to be healed then and what she could live with until she got to camp. 

 

The hours passed with agonizing slowness, each minute seeming to taunt her. She was so close to freedom. Only a few more hours. She could do this. She could make it.

 

She stopped bothering to hold back screams when he took the file to the base of her neck. There was no point, and hell, the nauseous faces of the other two were sickly satisfying. 

 

Leader kept asking how to breach the capitol walls. She was easy to ignore. What wasn’t easy to ignore, however, was the sound of the file. It was a heavy, nauseating scrape that seemed to reverberate through her. Even when it wasn’t in use she swore it still echoed in her head. 

 

She was so tired. 

 

Eventually, the sun was setting. Leader glanced outside, then sighed.

 

“Well. Looks like this will have to continue tomorrow.” She paused. “If you give me anything at all, I’ll feed you, yeah? You’ve got to be getting hungry.”

 

As the trio left, Helvetica could hear Rookie ask, “Do skeletons need water?”

 

There was no denying she was hungry, and thirsty. Problem was, any food given to her was almost guaranteed to be human food, and thus ultimately useless to her. If they knew she needed magic food, they wouldn't give it to her. It’d heal her, and replenish her magic, and would basically do everything they didn’t want. 

 

She could see the golden outline of the setting sun through the crack in the door. It was her only indicator of the passing time, the bright rays catching dust that could’ve been from time, or from her. She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

 

As the light faded, she readied herself. It was slightly more difficult to summon an attack than usual, but she chalked that up to her restraining her magic for so long. One bone, small and sharp, was all she needed. It was short work to saw through the fraying rope. Her arms burned with stiffness and her shoulders protested as she readjusted them. 

 

“First thing’s first,” she muttered. “This damn arm.”

 

With practiced caution, she bent to the right, then backwards. Slowly, she leaned forwards, until with a slight _pop_ , her arm slipped back into place. She’d probably fucked up the joint a little more doing that herself, as well as leaving it dislocated for so long, but there wasn’t much to be done about that now.

 

She focused for a moment. What needed to be healed? A weaker, smaller part of her insisted every injury was equally stunting, but she was long practiced at ignoring that. Carefully siphoning off some of her magic, she partially healed most of her ribs, as well as a couple of the filed patches. They didn’t need to be fully healed to get her moving.

 

Speaking of moving, she’d need some help. Abandoning any useless attempts to maintain dignity, she slid awkwardly off the chair to crawl across the floor. It was painful on the stump of her leg, but trying to hop and subsequently falling would hurt even worse. After what felt like eons, she made it to the haphazard pile in the corner, where her prosthetic sat against her breastplate. With careful maneuvering, conscious of her still-smarting shoulder, she reattached it. 

 

Would bringing the armor be worth it? No, she decided. With her injuries she probably wouldn’t be able to take the weight, and simply trying to lift it would probably cause her to collapse with exhaustion. 

 

With no small effort, she heaved herself up off the floor. Every inch of her body screamed with fresh pain, but she forced it back, gritting her teeth. This was no time for sulking and self pity. This was time for action.

 

Slow action.

 

Each step was a struggle, a heavy, decisive action that required every ounce of focus. Each footfall could only be described as plodding, and her prosthetic felt even more clumsy than usual. It didn't matter. She was escaping. 

 

It was dark out, a cloudy sky obscuring even the moon. She paused, scanning the camp. 

 

There was one guard a few yards to the left of the door, and a couple others patrolling, the latter two holding torches. The camp was walled, the structure ramshackle but the wood itself sturdy. She could see the entrance to the camp about twenty yards away. 

 

Breaking the wall down would be far too noisy. Were she uninjured she might be able to climb it, but she didn't trust herself in this state. If she could get rid of the guard closest, then duck around behind her prison, she could skirt next to the wall in the shadows to the entrance. However, that also held the risk of being caught, and then she'd be cornered. 

 

All of this and more raced through her head in a matter of milliseconds. If she were healthy and full of magic, this would be far simpler, but she was neither. Pretty much every part of her body was in pain, and she only had a few sparks left.

 

Well, damn. It'd have to do. She'd been in worse scrapes, she'd be fine. Hopefully.

 

She'd go around the wall, she decided. No noise, and if she ended up cornered she could break down the wall. It'd be messy, but hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

 

First, the guard closest. One bone, directly up their middle. Dead instantly, propped up as long as she made sure not to dissolve the attack. Painless. Better than she could say for what could've happened to her.

 

She slipped around the corner behind the glorified shed she had been trapped in and took a moment to breathe. The attack took more out of her than she thought it would. Irrational fear rose in her chest. What if she couldn't make it out?

 

 _Breathe, old girl,_ Helvetica told herself. _You'll be alright._

 

She peeked around the side of the shed. The other two guards patrolling were chatting on the other side of camp. Gods, were they even the slightest bit alert? 

 

The shadows were ink black, dark blankets ready to hide her away. She ducked easily from one to the next, relying on instinct and years of practice to keep her hidden. Her movements were slow, always conscious of her wounds and bad leg. 

 

She was so close to freedom, she could almost taste it. The exit was mere feet away, when she tripped. It was a small stumble, and she caught herself noiselessly. Doing so, however, took all her concentration, and she lost focus on her attack. It dissolved, and with the clatter of armor, the corpse fell to the ground.

 

"Oh, hell" she whispered.

 

"What's going on?" said one of the guards. 

 

She started shuffling faster towards the exit, doing her best to stay silent. If she ran, she'd trip, and alert them to her location even more quickly.

 

"The prisoner's gone!" shouted the guard to their counterpart. 

 

"Shit. Wake everyone up, we gotta find it."

 

Just as everyone began to pour out of their tents, she managed to slip outside. She was free. Mostly, anyway. She still had to get away from the camp.

 

It was easy to lose herself in the trees, ducking through brush and between shadows. Torches fanned out behind her, clumsy footfalls and shouting following her step for step. Every part of her seemed like it was covered in hot pins, but she couldn't stop. All she wanted to do was lay on the ground and sleep for ages. 

 

"I think I see it!"

 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

 

Rustling up ahead. Was she surrounded? She swore she could hear it on all sides.

 

Deep breath. Call her few traces of magic forward. She wasn't going to go back.

 

A face popped through the trees.

 

"Gerson?"

 

"Helvetica?"

 

"Oh thank god, I thought you were one of the humans."

 

"No- I- We were coming to save you!"

 

"I can handle myself. Now, let's go, the humans are right behind me."

 

"You go, I'll take up the rear."

 

There was only a few others with Gerson. No medics, unfortunately. She leaned on one of them, a foot soldier she believe was named Greta. 

 

"I can heal you a little," said Greta. Her voice was gruff, and sharp teeth lined her mouth.

 

"Please," said Helvetica. 

 

She pressed one blue-scaled, webbed hand against Helvetica's spine. Weak green waves of magic scurried out and sank into the worst of her injuries.

 

Helvetica sighed in relief. Even the small amount felt leagues better. "Thank you." Greta nodded.

 

Gerson jogged up from behind. She hadn't even noticed him leave. His hammer was suspiciously red, but she didn't ask him about it. Whatever made him feel better. 

 

Helvetica hobbled along. She could feel a heady resoluteness rising inside her. They would regret letting her live. Now she knew they would be attempting to break into the capitol soon, and could begin studying maps to plan for that.

 

They could come. She would be ready.

**Author's Note:**

> i promise the next chapter of hellfire is coming! wrapping everything up is hard whoops


End file.
